Summer, 1970.

A tear escaped down Narcissa's cheek. Gently, the young witch tilted her head to the side in a practiced motion so the droplet would not carry her enhancements along with it. Her aunt, Walburga, had already scolded her for crying while pointing her knotted and arthritic fingers at the incinerated portrait of her beloved sister, Andromeda. Her Andy. Now burned from the family tapestry as if she never existed. As her aunt implied, Narcissa wondered if she would indeed be next. She mused darkly about what it felt like to be obliterated from existence, a star extinguished from the familial night sky. The thought caused her to shrink into herself and pick nervously at her cuticles. It was never supposed to be this way.

Andromeda was always rebellious. Often, she acted out in defiance to protect her younger sister. Andy was always the one to whisk Narcissia away. For the past sixteen years, Narcissa had been shielded by Andy from her mother's scorn, her father's temper when he overindulged in Firewhisky, and even the antics of their eldest sister, Bellatrix.

Bella, who loved her youngest sister fiercely, often showed her love through harsher means. Never one to comfort or coddle, Bellatrix often imparted too prickly of truths that no one else dared to breathe aloud. Still, Narcissa sobbed lavishly into Bellatrix's arms the evening prior after their sister's violent excommunication. At that moment, for both Narcissa and Bellatrix, a particular kind of innocence had been lost. Stoic as ever, Bella did little to comfort her little sister, who had all at once become a woman when only moments before she was still a girl.

"It's just us now, Cissy. You must be strong. You cry it all out now, but once you stop. Don't let me catch you shedding another tear for that blood traitor. We have a duty to our kind. Our family."

Bella spoke a lot like this lately. Something was always for a higher cause, as she sat there, Narcissa felt the same loneliness she had many years ago when her sisters attended Hogwarts without her. Now, the joy of her finally joining them at school seemed like a distant memory of more auspicious times. Indeed, what had befallen Andromeda was the expected consequence of her actions. The changes were small at first. Her sister started wearing jeans, listening to the Muggle radio, and playing with Muggle trinkets. Narcissa herself quietly partook in these explorations with her sister. Trying on the garments with her sister felt innocent enough, like playing in the attic with their grandmother's old dress robes when they were young. She recalled how her hands felt on the radio dial, changing the stations, with different music coming through the speakers like magic. It was all in good fun, and Narcissa never imagined how this playing around would have such dire consequences.

Andy had run off and eloped with her muggle-born classmate, Ted Tonks, and had shamed her family beyond reproach. For her sister to be disinherited was one thing; to be erased from existence and forbidden to be spoken about was another. While in her heart, Narcissa believed her family had gone too far, she recalled the hushed whispers in corners of recent social gatherings. The air had changed, like a hushed conversation Narcissa felt she had been privy to all her life—declaring your loyalty to your family and their values felt more critical than ever. Something had fundamentally changed.

Narcissa had never questioned whether her birthright and family values mattered to her until Andromeda propositioned her to come with her. She thought back to the image of Andromeda shoving everything as quickly as she could into her old Hogwarts trunk while she stood in the doorway of her sister's room, unable to speak, choking back sobs and simply shaking her head, 'No.'

"Don't let them use you, Cissy. Don't let them use your gifts or body because they will. That's what they raised us for."

Narcissa immediately wished for her sister back. Her comfort. Her protector. As quickly as the wishful thought entered her mind, shame replaced it. Suddenly like a damn burst forth, her tears began to flow more freely than before. She allowed them to cascade down her cheeks, neck, and onto her collarbones until they soaked the neckline of her navy blue dress. Narcissa hated this feeling of crying like a child just as much as she hated Grimmauld Place. The entire remaining family rushed there just after breakfast. Her father, displaying more urgency than she had seen from him in years, announced that he needed to discuss business with her Uncle Orion. Bellatrix and her husband, Rodolphus, would meet Cygnus there.

Meanwhile, her mother, Durella, pulled her from her bed before the sun broke the horizon to fix and enhance her youngest daughter's appearance. Behind charms and over the spread of various enchanted potions and powders, Narcissa sobbed, unable to hold back her tears. Durella scoffed as Narcissa's tears undid her efforts to make her look. Her stern corrections did not make the girl yield, so Durella broke down her facade and held her daughter to her chest. Narcissa could not recall the last time her mother hugged her, held her, or showed any more than formal affection.

"Don't cry, my dove. Don't cry. This reminds me of the day I married your father. I didn't want to; I cried just as you are now. But my father had made a deal: I was to be married off to preserve the Rosier name. Because of this, you are here today. From the moment I first felt you move inside me, I knew you were what would redeem me. An heir or not, my purpose would be fulfilled. You are sixteen now, my girl — one year older than I was then. It is time to stop crying for today. You must stay presentable."

Although they would all leave by morning, Narcissa would stay here for a few weeks. Her parents felt she needed time to adjust, as she had been too close to Andromeda not to be a flight risk. Her father would take his leave in the morning to attend to her mother, who had since gone nearly mad after Andromeda's betrayal. Narcissa seemed to be the afterthought of her eldest sister. Bella, who patted her younger sister's shoulder without ceremony before departing through the floo, leaving Narcissa alone with her thoughts and the tapestry.

Once doting, Bellatrix now seemed to never spare a thought for her younger sister. In recent months, something about her elder sister had changed. The fire behind her eyes seemed to burn with an even more intense glow, and she had grown gaunt, pale, and irritable. Narcissa, skilled at legilimency, had a habit of skimming the thoughts of those around her. Today, this work on Bellatrix saw increasingly diminishing returns. It was as if only blackness had sprouted to the forefront of her mind and countenance. While Andromeda had just left her, Narcissa felt she was losing her other sister in plain sight.

The Victorian courting bench she sat upon's ornate hardwood harshly dug into her back and hips. Narcissa shifted in her seat slightly, although the discomfort distracted her from the profound sadness that had seeped into her bones. She stared at the tapestry until her vision blurred with tears, only allowing them to come into focus when she felt the bench shift under the weight of another person who had taken the seat diagonal from her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she took in the figure. The person's shoulder-length silvery blonde hair revealed their identity: Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, having recently graduated, was a year above her at Hogwarts. Despite this, Narcissa knew little about him. She only observed him in the Slytherin Common Room, where he laughed loudly with his friends in his prefect's uniform. At school, Malfoy was surrounded by what seemed to be an endless stream of girls. These dalliances were taken up to his room, often intoxicated, giggling, and hanging off his arm following his victories in Quidditch matches.

Once loud and boisterous, Lucius, too, had undergone a metamorphosis. When Narcissa saw him after his graduation, Malfoy had become quiet and reserved. He had become thin, losing most of the muscle from his time on the house team, his cheeks slightly hollowed; something dark and melancholic had begun to take root. His aristocratic features seemed heavy under the weight of the stress of someone beyond his years. At last month's Summer ball, he spoke to no one, pushing his food around his plate and drinking to excess. Narcissa had a strange run-in with him that evening. She was on a balcony, feeling anxious from the crowd and wanting some air; she spotted Lucius quietly and intently looking up at the night sky. He, noticing her presence, opened his mouth to speak to her before expressly vomiting over the marble railing into the gardens below. Quietly, Narcissa had given him her handkerchief and returned to the party, breathing no word about his embarrassment to anyone.

Now, she sat there in silence, waiting for him to speak. Narcissa could not understand why Lucius would be here. Perhaps he had come here looking for her sister and her husband. As she skimmed through his thoughts, Narcissa found only emptiness, much like Bella's. Narcissa bristled as she recalled how her mother would have scolded her for failing to stand and greet the Malfoy heir immediately.

Lucius cleared his throat softly, hoping the young witch would address him first. Although he was no stranger to loss, Lucius had no idea what to say. His eyes remained fixed on Narcissa's delicate side profile. When did the bookish little sister of Bellatrix and Andromeda become beautiful? Narcissa carried with her an air of fragile elegance. Her golden blonde hair cascaded in waves, which framed her face, which was swollen from what Lucius assumed to have been hours of crying. She looked like a porcelain doll, unblemished, breakable, and too beautiful. Lucius paled at the thought of telling why he had come, especially so close to her sister's untimely departure; his father, Abraxas, ailing from recurrent Dragon Pox, had sent Lucius to journey to Grimmauld Place alone. Narcissa's family was eager to facilitate their marriage to save face, notifying Lucius and his father via Owl post about what had unfolded the day prior, just as they sat down for breakfast. Lucius, too, had felt pressure to do his duty from both his father and his new dark master.

"It is up to those like young Lucius here to bring forth the next generation of pure wizarding blood. A duty we have sorely neglected since the fall of Grindelwald."

The silence lingered. While Lucius struggled to find anything to say, Narcissa gently spoke up.

"She's not here. Bella has gone home with Rodolphus." Narcissa shifted in her seat again, stifling back tears. "I am not sure if you're aware-"

"I'm here to see your father," Lucius said softly. Even in distress, Narcissa looked beautiful as she scanned his face, trying to process what he had told her. Lucius felt a burning sense of shame as the young woman's disheveled appearance made him desire her more. The way things function in our world is often cruel. At that moment, Lucius resolved he must be gentle with her.

"My father—" Narcissa paused, finally fully meeting the steel gray eyes of the boy, who was now a man and the functional head of his household behind her. Lucius' gaze bore into sapphire pools stained with tears. A moment of panic flashed in Narcissa's eyes. All at once, she understood the unspoken situation in the air and the strange events of that morning that preceded it. A single tear threatened to escape from the outside corner of her lash line.

"Yes. Your father," Lucius said in a voice barely above a whisper while he fumbled for a handkerchief. He placed the fine fabric into Narcissa's palm, taking her delicate fingers and closing them around it. Narcissa looked unblinkingly at the token emblazoned with the Malfoy family crest—her future.

The two sat locked in this moment of contact—something intimate, something expressly forbidden. Narcissa felt the heat rise in the pit of her stomach as Lucius' thumb began to brush over hers.

"Narcissa—I promise…"

Before Lucius could say another word, Kreature, a house elf, appeared in the doorway. "Master will see you now, young Sir Malfoy," croaked the elf. Turning on its heel, it began its limping walk down the darkened corridor.

"I am truly sorry about your sister, Narcissa," Lucius whispers before turning on his heel and following the elf down the hall.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AUTHORS NOTES: Hello, everyone! Welcome to my first fanfiction. I have been an avid Lucissa shipper for years. After exhausting the many fanfiction options on the site, I've decided to write my own. I plan to update this fic with a new chapter each month.

PS: If they can even read this! Please, no more bot requests for commissioned art. I will report any comments about commissions, PMs, and will block those who inquire about this.